


Stiles is Really Sick of Being the Damsel

by TheVoiceofWrath (meet_your_fate)



Series: 300 Followers Giveaway Fics [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Blow Jobs, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, POV Stiles, but really just a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:06:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1456579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_your_fate/pseuds/TheVoiceofWrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek rejects Stiles and tells him to keep his nose out of werewolf business, Stiles really tries, okay? He does. But werewolf business just finds him anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles is Really Sick of Being the Damsel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadegarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadegarden/gifts).



> This is for my second place winner, [shadegarden](http://shadegarden.tumblr.com). I hope you like it ♥
> 
> edited 4/14/2014 - fixed a few typos [gigacat](http://gigacat.tumblr.com/) pointed out because I am literally the _worst_ at spotting typos that disguise themselves as real words omg

Derek isn’t saying anything.

Stiles can still feel the echo of Derek’s unresponsive lips against his own and  _Derek isn’t saying anything_. In fact, Derek is looking stormy and kind of angry. Angrier than usual even. Oh god, Stiles really misread those signals, didn’t he? He takes a few quick steps back and flounders, trying and failing to find the words to apologize.

"Stiles."

"Yeah, no. Sorry, I—"

" _Stiles_. Listen to me. This can’t happen."

Stiles runs his hands through his hair and looks anywhere but at Derek. "I know that now, oh my god, I’m so sorry. I thought—I thought you liked me. It seemed like you liked me…"

"I don’t," Derek says. "I don’t like you like that."

"Wow. Um… Thanks for being honest, I guess," Stiles says, trying not to feel absolutely brokenhearted. It’s not Derek’s fault he doesn’t have feelings for Stiles. "I’m just going to head off to college and be mortified forever."

Derek does something complicated with his eyebrows. "It’s for the best, you getting some distance from all this. Safer. You don’t belong all tangled up in supernatural stuff; you’re just a human. You’re not pack."

Somehow, that stings just as much as the rejection. He doesn’t _belong_? That’s pretty goddamn harsh. "You should leave. I have a lot of crap to pack tomorrow morning and a long drive. Yay college."

Derek nods, but lingers for a few more moments, like he wants to say something else. Stiles doesn’t really know how Derek could make him feel shittier right now than he already does, though, so he’s glad when Derek climbs out the window and into the night.

Stiles doesn’t sleep a lot that night.

♦

He thinks about texting Derek or something, one night when he’s feeling kind of sad and bored and he’s procrastinating an assignment, because they were something like friends once. Weren’t they? He can’t tell anymore; everything he ever thought he knew about him and Derek is apparently wrong. What would he even say? ‘Sorry I disgusted you so much with my feelings, let’s be bros’? ‘Hey, would you like to just ignore how shitty you made me feel and talk about werewolves and stuff like nothing has changed’? No, no Derek made himself perfectly clear and Stiles should respect that.

Derek doesn’t want anything to do with him.

And Stiles shouldn’t want anything to do with Derek, either. It’s better this way. He hasn’t been attacked in _weeks_ and that’s kind of a nice change. You know, not fearing for his life on a daily basis and stuff. That’s good. Great. He doesn’t miss the excitement or anything. Getting regular amounts of sleep is a wonderful thing. Or it would be, if homework and his overactive brain didn’t keep him up at all hours anyway.

♦

Stiles almost skips coming home for winter break altogether but, in the end, he drives down for Christmas day just to see his dad. He’s on the road again before any werewolves even know he’s in town. He’d feel bad about it, but Scott’s school is close enough that they see each other fairly often and they’re always texting and Skyping. No one else involved in ‘supernatural stuff’ gives a crap about him anyway.

He’s not lonely at all…

♦

"Are you kidding me? Seriously? Minding my own business and studying hard and crap, but I get snatched _anyway_?”

"Shut this kid _up_ , Jesus _Christ_ ,” the tall woman with the dyed red hair says, eyes rolling.

"Hey lady, I’ve barely _begun_ to jabber," Stiles says. "What do you even want with me? I haven’t been involved with werewolf crap for like ever. Since last August. If it’s information you want, I seriously don’t have any. No information. At all. Torturing me will get you nothing but my manly tears."

The shorter woman, with one with the combat boots and fancy braid, looks at him like he’s the most boring person on the planet. Which is frankly really offensive. "We’re going to kill you and leave you on the border of Alpha Hale’s territory."

"Well, that’s extreme," Stiles says. He struggles a little at his bonds, but he knows the ropes won’t give. It’d have been better if they’d used zip ties or handcuffs; he has more experience with those. And not fun experience, either. He’s pretty sick of being kidnapped and tied up. It got old after like the third time. "What exactly is it you hope to accomplish by doing that?"

"We’ve been having a territory dispute. We need to resolve this quickly, so things have to escalate. Killing his human will make him act out foolishly and emotionally," says the seriously ripped looking Latino dude who’s guarding the door. Like, his muscles have muscles. Jesus. "It’ll make him vulnerable."

Stiles can’t help a brief, aborted laugh. "You’re kidding me, right? He won’t give a crap that I’m dead. The only thing he’ll care about his how to deal with my corpse once he finds it. A minor inconvenience, you know? Seriously, if you’re trying to kill someone to get to Derek, you picked the wrong person."

"He visits you once a week," the tall woman says.

Stiles is becoming more and more confused. "He really doesn’t. He hasn’t said a word to me since I left Beacon Hills."

The shorter woman shakes her head. "We’ve tracked him to your dormitory."

"Well, you must suck at tracking because he’s never been anywhere near here."

"We’ll see," the man says. He nods at the shorter woman.

She pops her claws out, her eyes flashing blue as she approaches Stiles—

And then everything happens so fast. There’s roaring and snarling and fighting and Stiles doesn’t see any of it after his chair is knocked over onto its side, his elbow banging against the floor. He scoots towards the wall, away from the fray, and tries to get free of the ropes. He doesn’t want to be helpless when attention turns to him again. Jesus, he at least wants to die on his _feet_. Can’t he at least go out with some dignity? Not a lot. He’d settle for just a teeny little bit. A teeny, tiny, itty bitty amount of dignity. That’s all he’s asking for.

"Dude, Stiles, stop squirming," Isaac says.

Isaac? What? Stiles looks over his shoulder and sees the three enemy werewolves are down and out—maybe even dead; he doesn’t want to know—along with two more guys that must’ve been patrolling outside. Erica and Boyd and Isaac and Jackson are standing there, along with Scott.

And Derek. Jesus. Derek really needs to stop looking so great in shredded clothes, covered in blood.

Crap.

Stiles sighs. "A little help here, maybe?"

Scott rushes forward and claws the ropes apart. "Sorry, buddy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I’m fine," Stiles says, sitting up and rubbing at his raw wrists. His elbow is a little sore from where he fell, but it’s fine. He’s had worse and it isn’t serious or anything. He stands and brushes the accumulated dirt and dust and stuff off his clothes. "So. What the hell?"

"We really didn’t think they’d drag you into this," Scott says. "When we found out they did, we came right away."

"How did you find out?"

"Derek was stalking you," Erica says. "And he couldn’t find you anywhere."

Stiles looks at Derek, trying to figure out what exactly _that_ means, but Derek is acting all shifty.

"Get Stiles back to his dorm," Derek says. "We have to clean this mess up."

Scott urges Stiles out of what turns out to be a vacant factory. Wow, these big bads were _super_ original.

"So, why _did_ they drag me into this?" Stiles asks.

Scott sighs. "It’s complicated. These territory disputes are pretty serious. They wanted to attack Derek’s weak spots."

"I don’t get it. I mean, I’m weak? Is that what you mean?"

"Of _course_ not, Stiles. No one thinks you’re weak,” Scott says, eyes big and earnest.

Okay, so, maybe _Scott_ doesn’t think so. "What then?"

" _Derek_ is weak where you’re concerned," Scott says. "He’s emotional. He doesn’t think straight."

"Bullshit. He was thinking pretty straight when he told me to hit the road and keep my nose out of his business…"

♦

Stiles’s roommate is having a 'sleepover' in his girlfriend's dorm when Derek knocks on the door. Actually knocks; Stiles almost doesn’t believe it’s him, even when he looks through the peephole and sees Derek standing there in a fresh change of clothes.

"No werewolves allowed," he calls through the door. "Unless your name is Scott. Which, I don’t think it is. So… Scram."

Derek’s face is doing something complicated again. “Stiles. Let me in.”

"What was that?"

With a long suffering sigh, Derek says, " _Please_ let me in."

Stiles reluctantly opens the door and then retreats across the room as far as he can go. It’s a small room, just two beds and two desks and limited floor space. He’s glad his roommate has somewhere better to be right now. He sits cross-legged on his unmade bed and waits. There’s going to be a lecture, right? Why else would Derek come see him?

But Derek just paces over towards the window. Seriously? He’s going to make Stiles talk first? Some things really just never change.

"I didn’t do anything. I was just on my way back from my last class of the day and they grabbed me. I wasn’t getting into werewolf business at all," Stiles says.

Derek briefly glances towards Stiles. "I know."

Stiles blinks. "Ooo- _kay_. So what, then? Why are you here to yell at me?"

"I’m not. I’m here to apologize," Derek says.

"You lost me," Stiles says. "Apologize? Yeah, right. _You_? For what?"

Derek nods and finally faces Stiles properly, face set like he’s in front of a firing squad. "For putting you in danger. I tried to push you away to keep you safe, but it didn’t work. They followed me here when I was checking in on you—I put you in danger anyway."

"I’m so confused," Stiles says. "Are you saying I lost like ninety percent of my social circle because you were just being an overprotective dick? Is that what you’re saying?"

Derek nods.

"That’s seriously the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my whole life, dude. I’ve felt like crap for _months_. _Months_. Because you thought you were, like, _protecting_ me?"

Derek nods again.

"That’s really shitty," Stiles says. "I mean, on top of the rejection, too? You couldn’t have let me down easy and then picked a different day to make me feel like a worthless piece of crap? Your sense of timing sucks."

"I thought it would be more effective," Derek says.

That’s actually pretty hurtful. Stiles doesn’t want to hurt anymore, though. He’s tired of it. “Well, I guess it was. Awesome. You should skedaddle. I’m sure there’s a whole pack thing you need to take care of and I should do some homework before bed.”

"Stiles."

Stiles wants Derek to _leave_ … "What?”"

"I don’t think you understand what I’m saying here."

"You told me I’m just a useless human so that I’d keep my nose out of supernatural business. What’s not to get? I mean, supernatural business found me _anyway_ , but whatever."

"It _found you_ because of me," Derek says.

"So? And?"

Derek looks like Stiles is making his life very, very difficult. Which is stupid because it’s not like any of this is _Stiles’s_ fault. "Those werewolves found you because I couldn’t go without seeing you. I hated that you came to town for Christmas and didn’t even stop by…"

Stiles is getting more frustrated, too. "Don’t even act like I’ve _wronged_ you somehow, dude. You’re the one who told me to stay away."

"That doesn’t mean I was happy about it," Derek says.

"You’re never happy about anything, so that’s not even a change."

Derek shakes his head. "You know that isn’t true. I’ve been happy."

"Yeah? When?"

"When you’re around," Derek says, huffing like it’s physically painful for him.

"Bologna. I mean, seriously? _Bologna_." Stiles rolls his eyes and idly fluffs his pillow, just for something to do with his hands.

Derek takes a deep, steeling breath before saying. "I didn’t mean it."

"Mean what?"

"You _know_ what,” Derek says. He’s exasperated; Stiles is, too.

"I really don’t. Otherwise, you know, I wouldn’t have asked."

Derek sighs, gritting his teeth. "When I said I didn’t like you. I didn’t mean it."

"Don’t," Stiles says. "Just— _don’t_. Don’t even go there. I _know_ you meant it. You can’t change your mind all of a sudden months later, man. I’m over it."

It’s a lie; Stiles isn’t over anything and they both know it.

"Stiles. Listen very closely: I _only_ said that to drive you away. I didn’t mean it. I only said it to keep you _safe_ ," Derek says.

Stiles throws his pillow at Derek. “Well, sorry, I don’t believe you. And why would you even go to all that trouble if you were just gonna lurk around campus spying on me anyway?”

"I _said_ already—I _missed_ you. That’s why I was here. I wanted to see you. You never even text or call and I just… I missed you,” Derek says, dropping the pillow back on the bed and sitting down by Stiles. “I didn’t mean for you to stop talking to all of us…”

"So, either you lied then or you’re lying now, which means I have no way of knowing which is the truth. Some of us don’t have lie detector ears, you know."

"I’m telling the truth _now_ , Stiles," Derek insists. He reaches out to take Stiles’s hand, but Stiles pulls his hand away.

"Really? You’re gonna do this now? Months of me thinking you hate my guts and now you’re gonna try to put the moves on me?"

"Stiles, I explained it already. I didn’t want you going off to college and being in constant danger where I couldn’t protect you. It was a mistake," Derek says. It isn’t fair that he looks like Stiles is kicking his puppy or something.

"I haven’t even decided if I believe you yet but, what, I’m just supposed to forgive you and fall into your arms?"

Derek huffs again. Stiles is somewhat reminded of a snorting bull. "That was kind of the idea, yeah."

"Whoops, I guess, because that’s not happening. I’m mad. I’m gonna be mad for a while," Stiles says. "So you should go. I’ll text when I’m not mad any—"

Derek is kissing him and those lips are the opposite of unresponsive this time around. Now, they’re _aggressive_ , like Derek is trying to convince Stiles with his mouth that he has, like, emotions and crap. It’s _wonderful_. Stiles’s knees would be weak if he were standing. He grips at Derek’s shirt and presses closer. This doesn’t feel like a lie—he’ll have the stubble burn come morning to prove it’s real.

Derek pulls back to look at him all earnest like. "I’m going to keep you safe now. I _am_ , I promise. But distance isn’t going to cut it. I need you close. I need you to be mine."

"That’s, um. That’s kind of intense there, dude. I’m not gonna _leave school_ so you can keep an eye on me," Stiles says.

"No, I—I wouldn’t ask you to. I just need to be able to do more than lurk outside your dorm a couple times a month," Derek says, frowning like Stiles is being difficult again.

Stiles can’t help but snicker. "So you admit to the lurking then, huh?"

"Shut up, Stiles."

Stiles lies down and pulls Derek with him. "We can maybe sexile my roommate sometimes. I’d be okay with that. But, for future reference, if you ever break my heart again because of some misguided act of selflessness, I’m gonna kick your ass. Got it?"

"Got it," Derek says. He kisses Stiles again and Stiles can feel the way his lips are curving in a smile. It’s nice. He could get used to this…

He could _also_ get used to the way Derek is unfastening Stiles’s jeans. That’s pretty great.

"You haven’t been seeing anyone, have you?" Derek asks as he shoves Stiles’s jeans down his hips.

"What? No. Oh my god, how could I have been seeing anybody when I’ve been moping? Moping isn’t sexy, dude, no one wanted a piece of this. Well. There was a drunk girl, but I’m not into doing stuff with people who can’t properly consent."

"That’s good," Derek says. "That you didn’t take advantage."

Stiles nods. “Yeah. Well, I mean, it’s common decency, but yeah. Have you been…?"

"Seeing anyone?" Derek asks. He shakes his head. "No. I’ve been moping."

Derek tosses Stiles’s jeans onto the floor and Stiles tugs Derek’s shirt off, getting a look at his really ridiculously beautiful chest. Seriously? That chest just isn't _fair_. "That’s no one’s fault but your own, you butthead," Stiles says.

"You’re really mature, you know that?"

Stiles laughs. "Yeah, I know I am. That's why you wanna get all up on this," he says, squirming underneath Derek in a way he hopes is enticing. Or writhing? Would writhing be the better word? It seems sexier, anyway, that he _writhes_ underneath Derek.

Derek lets out a little huff of breath that seems more amused and fond than anything else. Less like a snorting bull, anyway. "You're making me reexamine my life choices right now."

Regardless of his words, though, Derek rucks Stiles's shirt up and off, his hands running tenderly along Stiles's sides. He _totally_ wants to get all up on Stiles; Stiles is going to be smug about that for basically ever. He takes a hold of Derek's nape and tugs him close. "Less talking, more kissing..."

"There should definitely be some talking," Derek says.

"Later, man. Some jerk face went and kept us apart for months when we could've been banging. Oh, wait, that jerk face was _you_."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Keep going and I might not let you come."

He presses his mouth to Stiles's neck, though, so Stiles thinks it's _mostly_ an empty threat. Derek is totally sucking a hickey on Stiles's throat. He curls his fingers in Derek's hair and lets out an easy, broken sound because he's apparently not quiet. And they— _hopefully_ —haven't even really gotten started yet. This is going to be really awesome. "I really don't think you could _stop_ me from getting off, dude. It's an inevitability. The launching sequence has already started."

"Shut up and unbutton my pants."

"Says the guy who wanted more talking literally, like, five seconds ago." Stiles does as he's told, though, and reaches down between them to get Derek's fly open, slips his hand inside Derek's boxer-briefs. But Derek pulls away and that's the _opposite_ of a good idea. Stiles clutches at Derek's arms to keep him close. "I don't have any, you know. _Stuff_. My roommate might—"

"It's fine," Derek says, peeling Stiles's hands off of him and scooting down the bed. "We don't need 'stuff' this time around."

"What do you...? Oh. _Oh_. So, you mean—Yeah. Yeah, that's a good plan," Stiles agrees, nodding fervently when Derek tugs Stiles's boxers off and settles down between Stiles's spread legs. Stiles is blushing because Derek's face is level with his dick, which is super hard and _leaking_ because Stiles is somehow still a virgin and this is all way hot. Like, _so_ hot. He's going to embarrass himself here, isn't he? Yeah. Yeah, he is. Hopefully Derek doesn't make fun of him about it; that kind of thing could really damage a guy's ego.

He'd say as much out loud, but he's suddenly incapable of forming coherent words. Huh. Must have something to do with the way Derek is _swallowing around his dick_. That's a whole new feeling: being on the receiving end of a blowjob. It's good. Great. Basically the best thing ever. He gets his fingers back in Derek's hair and tries to just hold onto it all polite like, tries not to _pull_ or anything like that. That would be rude, right? He thinks that would probably be rude. He babbles incoherently, encouragingly, and  _trembles_ when Derek  _growls_ around him.

Yeah, he's done for. He manages a half-assed, muttered warning and then comes his brains out. Maybe even literally. Seriously, he loses a few seconds there. When he can think more or less straight again, Derek is already kissing his way up Stiles's chest. "Wha...?"

"Eloquent," Derek says. Derek's voice, normally, is deceptively high. One would think it's lower with the way he looks and stuff. It always kind of surprises Stiles how _not_ low it is, if he's gone a while without hearing it. If it's been long enough to forget. But, now? Now it's thick from the whole cock sucking thing and that's new enough that it surprises Stiles, too.

"Bite me," Stiles says, _eloquently_. But Derek, the ass, actually _does_ bite him. Right next to his left nipple and it really kind of hurts. He shoves at Derek's shoulders, but can't help laughing. "That's gonna bruise, oh my _god_!"

Derek doesn't seem to care much. He's really just amused at Stiles's expense. "I was just following directions."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles grumbles. He pushes at Derek, urging him over so Stiles can return the whole oral sex favor, but Derek stops him and straddles his hips instead.

"Just this," Derek says, taking his dick out of his boxer-briefs and stroking it.

Stiles doesn't have enough braincells to comprehend this right now. That is a nice looking dick. Not really bigger than Stiles's, but definitely a little thicker. He's seen a lot of dicks on the internet and, yes, he feels he's qualified to say with certainty that this one is a good one. "Um. Can I...?"

Derek rolls his eyes and grabs Stiles's hand, guides it to his dick so that they're jerking it together. Stiles lets out a sound with a lot of consonants in it. Wow. Just, _wow_.

It doesn't take long for Derek to come. Which he does all over Stiles's belly; Stiles really thinks he's going to have to do a little introspection, if being _jizzed on_ does it for him. He'd thought that's something that only existed in fantasy and porn, not something people were actually _into_. Clearly, he was incorrect in that assumption. But it's obvious that Derek enjoys doing the jizzing on part, too, because he rubs it into Stiles's skin and practically _purrs_.

"That doesn't seem quite sanitary," Stiles muses.

Derek flops down beside him on the single bed, a smug, satisfied air about him. "I'm a werewolf with supernatural healing powers; my bodily fluids are about as sanitary as that kind of thing gets."

"You're gross," Stiles says, snickering as he grabs some oh so inconspicuously placed tissues to clean this mess up. "Did you come all over me to get your werewolf stank on me?"

"Get used to it."

Stiles is looking forward to having that opportunity, yes. Between the two of them, they manage to wrestle off Derek's shoes and jeans, then curl up together in the too small bed. Derek promises that he'll wake them up before Stiles's roommate gets back in the morning.

♦

Derek doesn't. He's actually _snoring_ when Stiles is rudely awakened by his roommate's _bow chicka wow wow_ -ing. It's the worst.

**Author's Note:**

> come follow me on [tumblr](http://thevoiceofwrath.tumblr.com), let's be bros ♥


End file.
